The Problem with Guns
by Eesa
Summary: The awful way Kid holds his guns. Maka's skirt. Soul's headband. Crona's poetry. Black Star's muscles. All these, and more!


Maka stared.

Black Star stared.

Crona stared, then looked away nervously. Then stared again.

Kid fiddled with his guns. "Can everyone stop staring at me?" He ground out through clenched teeth.

"Dude, just… Just hold the guns normally." Even in scythe form, Soul felt the awkwardness of the situation.

"No!" Kid barked. "I've almost got it! Just hold on a second!" He managed to get Patty backwards and upside-down in one hand, but, he realised in horror, he had to get Liz in the same position. _Using only one hand._

This resulted in more fiddling, and as a result, dropped Liz unceremoniously on the ground.

"Kid!" She snapped. "Just hold us normally! It's not that hard!"

Sweat ran down Kid's face. "If everyone would kindly advert their eyes and stop talking, it would make this whole situation a whole lot easier."

Everyone sighed and complied with his request.

The Kishin stared at the group of them, who stared right on back. Minus Kid, who was in the midst of balancing both pistols, upside-down, on the floor. From there, he was trying to pick both up at the same time.

"So," the Kishin began awkwardly. "Is… Is this going to happen, or what?"

Maka sat down, and pulled a deck of cards out of her pocket. "I wouldn't bet on it."

Tsubaki sensed Black Star's agitation, and suggested he start doing push ups to control his bloodlust. He agreed, spewing "YAHOO'S" and obscenities all the while.

This further cemented Maka's belief that Black Star did, in fact, have tourettes.

Meanwhile, Kid had transformed, and was sitting in a circle along with Maka and Crona. The group was playing a high stakes game of poker. Ragnarok was alternating between looking over each of their shoulders to check what hands they had, and punching Crona in the face. The Kishin edged closer.

"How's it going over there, Kid?" Soul called.

Kid still had both guns on the ground, but was trying to position each barrel so it was symmetrical to the other.

"Don't talk to me!" he screamed.

Maka massaged her temples. "This really isn't the time. Besides, it's kind of ridiculous, how you hold your guns. Unnecessary, even."

Kid snorted. "Says the one who wears a miniskirt into battle."

Maka gasped in indignation. How dare he! She had to a right to be feminine! Granted, she got very few dates due to the fact that she was constantly wielding a razor-sharp scythe that could castrate a man faster than he could say "HOLY SHIT SHE'S CASTRATING ME WITH A SCYTHE."

Soul snickered.

Maka rounded on him. "Don't you start with me! You're the one wearing a woman's headband."

Soul scoffed. "It's a _man_band." He straightened his manband self-righteously. "I wouldn't expect you to know."

"What does _that _mean?"

Black Star had finished doing push-ups, and started on crunches. Tsubaki looked on.

The Kishin sat next to Crona. "So… seen any good movies lately?"

"What's a movie?"

"And why," Maka hissed, "are your teeth so pointy? What, were your parents sharks?"

"At least I know my parents!" Soul cackled. "What does your mom even look like?"

In the other corner of the room, Kid finally managed to make the guns symmetrical. Just as he was about to pick the guns up, he noticed a tiny, shallow, millimetre-sized scratch on Liz's barrel.

Suddenly the world became a dark, bleak existence for Kid as he fell on his knees and howled.

"And, like, I feel like no one knows the real me. You know?"

Crona nodded. He knew that feeling indeed.

"Sometimes I don't know what to do with my feelings, so I write them down in a book of poetry." The Kishin went on. "It's like, the only way to express what you really feel. Want to read some?"

Black Star screamed that he was not going to stop training until he could literally lift the whole building they were in with one hand.

Tsubaki didn't have the heart to tell him that he was beginning to look like an obscenely muscled, squat little gremlin that looked like he could haunt children's nightmares.

Maka and Soul were still going at it.

"Why is your hair white? What are you, an _old man_?"

"Why is your hair in pigtails? What are you, a _little girl_?"

Blair walked into the room. "Hi Soul, Maka!" She said cheerfully.

Both rounded on her, fire in their eyes. "Get out of here!"

Blair walked out of the room.

"Kid, what are you doing?" Liz screeched in a panicked voice. Kid loomed above Patty, a knife in his hand and a creepy leer on his face. "I must… I must make you symmetrical."

He lowered the knife towards Patty, who laughed hysterically.

The Kishin and Crona were clasped together in an embrace, both sobbing for all it was worth.

"Your poetry… It's so moving!" The Kishin cried. "So beautiful and awe- inspiring!"

"And yours, so wrought with despair and joy! It is the most lovely thing I have ever read!" Tears flowed freely down Crona's face. A setting sun appeared behind the two, whilst waves crashed around them.

"All you talk about is getting stronger! How about getting _bigger boobs_?"

"How about you acting like less of a douche _all the time_?

Black Star was trying to lift up the whole building, veins throbbing in his eyes and face.

"Black Star, stop! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"I must… transcend… god…" He wheezed. All of a sudden, there was a popping sound as his eye filled with blood due to a burst vessel. He slumped onto the ground; Tsubaki wringing her hands in worry.

Kid laughed maniacally; both guns held backward and upside-down, pinkies on the triggers and at the ready. "I did it!" He shrieked. "I finally did it!" Each gun was now adorned with matching scratches.

It was at that moment that Death walked in. Maka and Soul were in the middle of the room, viscously spitting out "yo mamma" insults like there was no tomorrow. Black Star lay spread eagle on the ground, a thin trickle of blood coming from his nose and left ear. Crona and the Kishin were each wearing a dark sweater, black beret and thick-rimmed glasses, engaged in a slow-jam, freestyle poetry slam. Ragnarok was snapping his fingers to the beat. And Death's own son, Kid, sat in one corner, in the fetal position. Both guns were in his hands, held in that ridiculous, upside- down, backward style.

Death backed out of the room, and walked away.

"The fuck was that all about," he muttered.


End file.
